


Somebody holds the key

by Mistofstars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 7x21, Crazy Castiel, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Ficlet, Jealousy, Kind of happy ending, M/M, destiel ficlet, lunatic castiel, reading is fundamental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistofstars/pseuds/Mistofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additionally to 7x21 (“Reading is Fundamental”) / taking place in it / Dean trying to handle his feelings towards Castiel, his jealousy, and the overall situation. What he doesn’t expect – Castiel might feel the same way, though he is not quite right in the head at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody holds the key

**Author's Note:**

> **Author:** Mistofstars
> 
>  **Pairing:** Lunatic Castiel / Dean Winchester
> 
>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Plot:** Additionally to 7x21 (“Reading is Fundamental”) / taking place in it / Dean trying to handle his feelings towards Castiel, his jealousy, and the overall situation. What he doesn’t expect – Castiel might feel the same way, though he is not quite right in the head at the moment.
> 
>  **Warnings:** sad, romance, drama, comfort, unbeta-ed, a bit gloomy, silly, fluffy
> 
>  **Author’s note:** I have a lot of feelings for 7x21, probably will never be over it. Seems like a taboo to write about lunatic Cas engaging with Dean, right? Well, this one is PG-13, so I was careful too lol. Haven’t written fanfiction stuff in months, so be gentle with meee!
> 
>  **Dedicated:** To my dear friend Angelphoenixwings14 (scorpi14 on tumblr), for cheering me up and everything, you’re awesome darling! Oh, and you should totally check out her stories!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** None of the mentioned characters in this are my creation. Everything is made up, I don’t make money with this. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
>  **Songs I listened to while writing this:** Rolling Stones – Laugh I nearly died, PV Nova – I don’t want to remember, Blind Faith – Can’t find my way home, Bush – Letting the Cables Sleep, Tom Waits – Chocolate Jesus

**Somebody holds the key**

You never thought you would end up like this, sitting next to a hospital bed in a psych ward – with Castiel as the patient, not the other way around as one could have expected. You cradle one of the infamous paper cups between your calloused hands; it contains watery coffee you really don't feel like drinking, but it occupies your twitchy, nervous fingers while he looks at you out of his knowing, piercing blue eyes. He's been out for weeks. It's a miracle, well, at least to the doctors, he is still alive – maybe Meg manipulated his record to conceal his trail... What were you thinking, leaving a demon as a warder over a frigging, unconscious angel? You study their behavior around one another, and you admit to yourself reluctantly it pisses you off, how Castiel addresses weird compliments to her, how his eyes are rather stuck to her than you. Must be jealousy, but who are you to become jealous? It was you, you remind yourself, who left Castiel with Meg, and that's what comes of it. Sure, you should have been there for him, you should have taken care of him, but that train has left the station long ago. As always, you had other things to keep in mind. 

For you, however, your feelings are still the same. Nothing has changed. Just from a passing view of him, it's all there again. The nasty sense of betrayal, of anger, of heartache and inner lonesomeness. The accusations, the lack of understanding you showed towards one another... It all pools within your stomach and makes you feel like you've swallowed heavy rocks. It makes you feel sick to the bone. Your throat is tight, you're choked with emotion, and yet not a single word leaves your mouth, comes forth out of this thin-lipped smile you feign. Jesus Christ, seeing him hurts. Something about him is broken, screams at you that you let it come to that. He wears the standard white hospital clothing, ridiculous slippers, and the – now cleansed and patched – trench coat you had kept for him and handed him back. Seriously, if you hadn't questioned his mental health already, with this outfit, you probably would have. It's endearing, though, how he hadn't donned the coat properly, how his fingertips are merely visible under the sleeve. He looks lost, like a scared, confused child. It twitches in your chest and you avert your gaze. You cannot save him now. No one can.

Things get hairy when other angels show up with the hunger to decapitate Castiel, so you find yourself in the Impala again, that's now crammed with your brother, a teenage prophet, a cooperative demon and a lunatic angel. You're glad you all made it out of the madhouse in one piece, but your childish jealousy remains the same, makes itself comfortable in your heart's core like an unwelcome guest. You lose your temper when Castiel keeps on blathering nonsense, and you awfully feel like a terrible copy of your father, who used to pull the same shit on you and Sam. The startled expression in Castiel's eyes doesn't help when he asks you rather startled why you are angry, sounding nothing but vulnerable. It takes all of your self-control not to stop the car, pull him out and kiss him until he's woozy and tell him you're sorry for everything. The other option is yell until your lungs drop out or until you've crashed into another car. But none of these scenarios actually happen. You manage to be the adult, reasonable one, and decide for conversation. You notice Sam's suspicious look on you, how he realized something is going on in the depths of you, something you can't talk about, but that it's slowly killing you. The worst about this whole situation must be Meg's sneering grin, you're certain she can see through your act, even though she's the only one. 

There are thousand things on your mind during that long night, when you find some forlorn cabin in the woods where all of you can have a breather – you make Kevin translate the god damn tablet in the cellar, and you feel like a criminal for it. After all, this is no place where a straight “A” student should spend his time, especially not when he's underage and hasn't asked for any of this. Desperate times call for desperate measures. You've been given a moment of peace too when you walk upstairs again – Meg is gone, and you're not happy about that, for you still don't trust this black-eyed creature. Sam soothes you and tells you to relax, that there's nothing you can do it about it now - then he disappears in the so-called kitchen to fix some grub for you two. Which leaves you alone with... Castiel. He's looking horrible, and from what Sam had whispered to you, he's not quite right in the head and doesn't even comprehend something's wrong with him. 

You sit down next to him on a wooden chest, not knowing what to say, where to start. Things have been a little tense between you two, so to say. There are so many things on the tip of your tongue, but you don't know how to form words out of these thoughts, how to make Castiel understand. If only he had his head on straight, maybe then it would be easier to explain yourself to him, to show him what he means to you... but you're as good as certain you wouldn't even consider this conversation under such circumstances. After all, what do you demand of him? Hasn't he given enough for you? It's probably better if you stay away from him and let him be. You've caused enough damage, you destroyed an angel. 

“Have you talked to Daphne again? I miss her... she was a very good wife to me.”

With a deep frown, you turn your head and examine Castiel, who's smiling subtly at you, his head tilted in the way he usual does it. You haven't thought about the mad woman who abducted Castiel to her home in a while – hell, you and Sam had never informed her of “Emanuel’s” disappearance, or why he couldn't return to her. Your heart trembles against your ribcage, you feel nauseous. What does it mean that Castiel asks for her? What does he imply with her being a good wife to him? Before you can dwell on these thoughts, Castiel does something peculiar, something he has never done before. Your heart misses a beat, you choke on your own breaths. He inclines his head and rests it on your shoulder, as if it's the most casual thing in the world. You're frozen from head to toe, a treacherous warm tingle stings in your belly. You barely dare breathing, you're so fraught with emotions. It seems like Castiel is attentively listening to your every stumbling breath, eager to hear more of you. You give a wince when the fallen angel takes your right hand into his left, when he intertwines your fingers on your upper thigh. In awe, you watch how perfect your combined slender fingers look, how right they appear like this. 

“When we made love, I liked to look her straight in the eye. She had green eyes like you, Dean, I liked that about her. A lot of her traits reminded me of you...”

“I don't wanna hear that, Cas,” you squeeze out, your voice a feeble laughableness. Your heart is in your throat, beating so fast, it makes your head swim. Images of Castiel and Daphne appear in your mind's eye, you feel like breaking down right here and there. Isn't he aware how much he hurts you with words like these? It's tentative, and it brings the blood to your cheeks when Castiel snuggles up to your side and presses a slow, hesitant kiss on your stubbly cheek. Feels like his lips leave a trail of fire, that courses through your whole body and makes you hypersensitive. You don't know what to say. There's a huge lump in your throat. On the one hand, you never want this moment to end, on the other, you're afraid of what else Castiel might throw at you. 

“Why? She was caring, just as you are... she cared about me, hosted me...”

“Alright, I get it! You want to be with here. Sorry we snatched you away from her.”

You can sense the uneasiness in Castiel, how he pauses for a contemplative second. You blame yourself, thinking you shouldn't have raised your voice, knowing he hates it these days. 

“That's not what I meant, Dean. I was with here, because I didn't know who I was, what I was, where I belonged. And she must have reminded me of you... You always find some way to get through to me. Even through strangers that have the same eye-color as you. I want to stay with you, if that's alright. I want to be with you.”

In a trice, you turn your head and behold Castiel as if he has lost the last sane remnants of his mind. But all he does is smile calmly at you, and a part in you thaws. A part you had buried a long time ago, which you thought you would never dig out again. You're dumbstruck. Your attention dwells solely on Castiel's beautiful smile, that's still beautiful albeit his brokenness. You treasure the softness in his eyes, how they're filled with affection that is meant for no one but you. In the next second, he holds your face in his warm palms, and a wrecked sigh leaves your mouth when his thumbs gently stroke over your cheek and jaw. It's like a dream, like a fairytale you hadn't believed in but somehow stumbled into, when he leans forward and his lids fall shut. For years you've been wondering how these lush, wrinkled lips would feel on yours. Castiel kisses you while his fingers frame your face, prevent you from pulling back. And it's all you can do and all you've been wishing for, when you bow your head and kiss Castiel hard in return, savoring his mouth like your life depends on it. The shaky moan Castiel gives causes heat in your abdomen. You feel torn by blinding desire. All you want is abandon yourself to the angel who gave up everything and who lost everything as well. You want to mend him. When you two withdraw, you're both out of breath, and an impish smile graces Castiel's kiss-wet lips. The come-hither look he's giving you, how he practically undresses you with his eyes alone, should be a warning sign, and you snap out of it. With a sudden vehemence you understand what is taking place here, and that you really, really shouldn't do this. Not the way Castiel is right now.

You gently grasp his wrists and move his hands slowly down, away from your face. He looks perplexed.

“Cas... we, we shouldn't do this until you get better. I'm not sure you're all there.”

A surprised grin looms on his gorgeous lips and he tilts his head once more.

“What do you mean? I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me.”

He says it like he truly believes it – in this moment, Sam walks in, a plate of sandwiches in his giant hand. He's giving you an exasperated look and tells you “Told you so”. You're not sure whether you're supposed to laugh or scream hysterically. But then again, things have never been easy for you. Maybe you just have to wait it out.

 

**THE END/b >**


End file.
